I Got The Last Room
by Migitmagee
Summary: This is the story of how the Doctor, his mind scarred from the Time War, is involved in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Rated T for now for descriptions of the war.


Hello all! This is an idea I've had buzzing around in my head for a while and I've decided to write it. It's based on a line by David Tennant's Doctor where he mentions he was at the first Christmas—he got the last room at the inn. I hope you enjoy it! Please note that I own neither the Bible nor Doctor Who and I am making no money off of this whatsoever.

**I Got The Last Room**:

A Christmas To Remember

He needed to get away.

The screams, the guilt, the smoke-filled air, the _burning_...

It was all coming to haunt him again.

Faces of people he had known and even loved. People who had attended the Academy with him. His own _children's_ faces, twisting in absolute terror as the world around them filled with thick orange smoke and burned, and burned, and burned. Lying to them five minutes earlier, holding back tears, telling them that everything was going to be fine, promising that they would stay safe and well and together but Daddy just had to take care of something first...and then he was sprinting, running flat-out to where he needed to be, because in one more instant the Daleks could descend and wipe out the universe's sole hope for survival. And he ran, and ran, and ran, no time to think, certainly no time to remember the trusting looks on his children's faces as he found his faulty, obsolete, lovely Type 40 TARDIS and unleashed the storm upon beautiful Gallifrey.

He wasn't supposed to survive. It was purely by chance that the telephone box was flung free from the wreckage, propelled by the massive explosion; pure, simple chance that the Doctor fell on the proper controls to get him away to safety.

The last of the Time Lords didn't escape completely unscathed, however. He had breathed in too much of that deadly orange smoke, and his twin hearts pumped the poison quickly and viciously through his body, forcing him to regenerate. Death, though, had only slightly dulled the pain of having completely obliterated two great species. And what was it that he had heard? A dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one? A sharp knife makes a clean cut. A dull one _drags_ against the flesh, creating micro-tears that catch bacteria and fester.

Not that he would know. The weapons used against him had been quite a bit more technologically advanced than knives, dull or sharp.

The Doctor didn't want this. He hadn't _wanted_ to survive. He'd wanted to burn with the rest of his race so that his huge, powerful mind, normally clamoring with the buzz of Time Lord voices, wouldn't feel so lonely, so empty.

He hadn't even seen what this new body looked like yet. Couldn't quite remember how old he was either—a millennium? Probably more than that. But he'd better knock a century off of that to be on the safe side. Nine hundred?

No, didn't feel right. It was too...neat. It was like saying he'd spent exactly a hundred years in each body and he knew that wasn't the case. Besides, nine hundred seemed too open. Too empty. Like his mind and _please, somebody, anybody, please answer me, don't leave me alo—_

The Doctor quickly cut off that train of thought. It was too much. He needed to get away from it, needed to surround himself with such life and vibrancy that he couldn't help but be swept away by it.

He punched in the coordinates for Earth and left it up to the TARDIS to determine where in human history he would land. But before he could surround himself with fantastic, brilliant, stupid apes of some arbitrary time period, he had to get out of this _ridiculous_ outfit. The green velvet frock coat, silver waistcoat, and cravat were far too—gaudy? Cheerful?—for his current mood. And he couldn't just keep the dress shoes that Grace had given him, they'd bring back too many memories of his life before...before.

No. Best to start completely fresh. All black, how fitting. Despite the melancholy and somewhat sinister look it gave him, he quite liked it: a jumper for warmth, the leather jacket for armor against the world, trousers and simple shoes for practicality. And maybe it would subtly remind people that no matter how friendly and affable he seemed, it would be in their best interests to interact with him once or twice and then pass him by.

Without bothering to check the TARDIS's choice of time period, the Doctor stepped outside the doors and looked around.

It was an arid place. Very simplistic and fairly old...he'd guess about the first century AD. The smell of animal and human sweat permeated the air. The sun hung low in the sky, a sky bright and vivid from the lack of chemicals in the air. The Doctor wasn't particularly hungry or tired, but as the day was waning he figured he'd better get to an inn or something so that he wouldn't attract too much attention. Normally he'd just go back into his TARDIS and skip forward to something more interesting, but right now the smoke and the guilt _I should have died, why didn't I die_ and the burning _what have I done_ and the screams and the sudden, bone-chilling emptiness _please don't leave me alone, please come back, someone, anyone, just SAY something_ were still far too close.

So in his new get-up he trudged through across the dry, dusty street and up to what looked to be an inn simply because it was larger than any of the other buildings in the immediate vicinity. The Doctor pushed lightly at it and it opened with some difficulty. The dimness in the room would have been more disorienting if the sun were not quickly setting; even so, the lack of light took his eyes by surprise.

The buzzing noise in the room died down as he entered. He smiled as disarmingly as he could...ah yes, in this body he could do that _extremely_ well. He knew he'd be using that trick in the future, the warm smile. Slowly activity returned as people resumed eating and gambling.

One man made his way over to the Doctor. "Can I help you?"

"Ah yes, just stopping by for the night...do you have a room I could use?" With a jolt he realized that not only did he have no idea what kind of currency these people had, but they were also primitive enough that he couldn't hack the system like he normally did with either his sonic screwdriver or his psychic paper. Maybe if he could gather a bit more information? "And by the way, where am I at the moment? I've had to travel rather quickly. Urgent business, you know."

"You're in luck," the innkeeper answered with a small smile, though it was obvious he was a little suspicious of the man in front of him. "We have one room left. Census going on, you know...everyone trying to get back to their birthplaces. Busy time." He shot the Doctor a skeptical look, and the Time Lord gave him his best disarming smile in return. "You're in Bethlehem, though how drunk you'd have had to be to not realize it, I don't know...better hurry up and get to where you're going, else you'll be punished for it."

The Doctor raised one eyebrow. "I'll just be here for a few nights, maybe more. How much'll it cost me?"

The innkeeper's eyes suddenly took on a cunning gleam. "I can't let you stay without seeing that you have some money. How do I know you'll pay?"

The man in black shrugged a little and pulled out his psychic paper. Maybe he could cheat the system with it after all.

Apparently he could, as the other man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He smiled a little obsequiously and pointed in the direction of the last available room. "Right through there, sir, last door on the left...please, make yourself comfortable, how lucky that you came, otherwise we'd be full up!"

The Time Lord smiled in thanks and made his way to the room that had been described to him. It was certainly not fancy by any stretch of the imagination; dirt floor, mattress made of straw and covered with a rough sheet, a window letting in the sunlight and vicious heat, and not much else. The wooden door didn't even have a proper latch on it. It made the Doctor feel a little more vulnerable than usual; he couldn't even tamper with the door using his sonic screwdriver, as it didn't work on wood. He really had to figure something out.

But still, it was a place to stay. Even better, he certainly would not be alone. Carefully he stretched out on the bed, wincing as the straw scratched him even through the sheet, and listened. A small smile hovered on his face. Humans. His favorite species. Laughing, cursing, getting drunk, obstinately making their way through their normal, microscopic, brilliant lives, not even realizing yet that their tenuous grip on the Earth would turn into a massive empire that would span across the entire universe.

He lay there for a while, just listening, until eventually he heard a knock on his door. "Yes?" the Doctor called, sitting up.

The innkeeper opened the door cautiously with an unctuous smile. "Sir, normally I would not bother you...but you know that my inn is full, and other people are either sharing rooms already or do not want another person staying with them, and there is a man with a woman outside asking to stay, and I was just wondering if you'd be so kind as to let them sleep in here with—"

The Doctor furrowed his brow. Of course he'd share the room with them. He didn't actually need it anyway. "Certainly," he agreed easily, and he saw the innkeeper's eyes light up greedily with the prospect of making more money from the same room. "I'd just like to see them first, make sure they don't mind."

"Of course, of course, thank you, kind sir, thank you so much!" The owner of the inn was practically babbling, his love for money was so great. "Come with me, I will show them to you, come, come!"

Getting off the bed, the Time Lord followed his gleeful host to the main room, where the other man pointed out the two people who would be staying with him. The Doctor immediately saw who he meant. One was a man who looked to be in his early thirties, with dark hair and a dark beard and kind eyes, not particularly tall, but seemingly strong as an ox. His hand was resting lightly on the shoulder of a young woman who was heavy with child. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or so, as was the custom in those—these?—days.

"Yosef!" the innkeeper called to them. Their faces lit up with hope. "This man has been gracious enough to—"

"Hold on," the Doctor butted in, brow furrowed. "What did you say his name was?"

The couple had approached them, and thus were close enough to hear and respond to the question themselves. "I am Yosef, this is Miriam," the man replied. "Thank you so much for letting us stay with you. We've tried every other inn in town, but nobody else had—"

The Doctor gave his best apologetic smile. "I'm very sorry, but there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

The other three people gawked at him blankly.

The Doctor practically _beamed_ then. "Yosef! You're a carpenter, right? Miriam, if I'm correct, you were raised in a temple when you were, oh, four, yes?" At their astonished expressions, his own brightened even more. "I can't let you stay in my room. Nothing personal, of course. Very sorry, but the deal's off."

He turned on his heel to return to his room, the grin still plastered on his face. It wavered quite a bit, however, when he heard the noises of dismay that came from the couple. He couldn't care less about the innkeeper, but he had sorely disappointed two kind and desperate people for—to them, at least—no discernible reason. The Doctor turned back. "Look...I'm very sorry. I've traveled a long way and I can't share my room with you. But I will make it up to both of you. I promise."

The innkeeper glared at him. "And what about me?"

"Oh, you'll get your money," he said sourly. "Tell you what. I'll pay you double."

Mollified, the man nodded, then shrugged at the couple. "Sorry. No room."

The Doctor watched them leave, their expressions downcast. "I really am sorry," he called out to them. "The room's rubbish anyway...if you want to save money I was sure I saw a stable nearby, with a manger and everything."

The couple made no reply, and the Time Lord made his way back to his room. On the way he couldn't repress the grin that came to his face. If he wasn't mistaken, he was about to witness the very first Christmas.


End file.
